


Remember this Regret too

by worldturtling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Crying, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldturtling/pseuds/worldturtling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By some mysterious force Dean wakes up the morning after 810, on Benny’s lap, with a very bad hangover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember this Regret too

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by the lovely ricketyhands@lj

 

Dean isn’t sure what happens. One minute he’s blacking out blessedly on the musty couch of Rufus’ cabin, an inch of beer left, tasting sick in the back of his throat and the threat of consciousness dreaded.

The next someone is cussing in rough and low language Dean isn’t sure of. And the surface below him is hard. And moving. And it doesn’t cover the rest of him and he feels his body tilting until hands grab him and awkwardly hold him from the floor.

The bottle falls from Dean’s hands though, and Dean sees an inch of beer splattered out in front of him. He throws up. A hand holds him steady on his waist and another on his neck, coolness patting down his hair.

“You’re gonna have to explain this one to me, brother.”

And then Dean realizes, through the heaving motions, that he woke up on Benny’s lap, and Benny’s knees were currently digging into his stomach.

* * *

 

Benny has a washcloth on his boat that he dipped in his small supply of fresh water, and he’s wiping Dean’s sallow face tenderly and silently. If Dean didn’t feel so horrible, he might feel awkward.

Benny had helped him upright and onto the chair Benny had been occupying when Dean was randomly swept up away from the cabin and landed on Benny’s lap.

Sam.

“Hold on, brother,” Benny has a hand on his shoulder – naked - wait, “You’ve got the look of death on you, and I don’t mean a good way like me.” Benny winks like Dean hadn’t just called him hours prior and told him they couldn’t ever speak again. Dean feels burning guilt. But he also feels like he wants to puke again, and Benny holds a bucket out, hand on Dean’s neck and telling him to let it all out. Dean really wishes he wasn’t vomiting right now in front of Benny, and he could see the spot on the floor where he had let it all out before from the corner of his eye.

He feels dizzy. He leans forward and his face lands in the crook of Benny’s shoulder, Benny’s arm coming around to brace him.

* * *

 

He wakes up again, in an over-sized shirt, the sleeves even hanging loose from his wrists and dwarfing his hands. He also wakes up in a bed, covers over him, the rest of him naked. He can see Benny in his pants, his suspenders, and a very thin cotton shirt. He’s wiping his hands, bent over something. He has a bucket next to his feet and a mop inside it and Dean realizes Benny had just cleaned up after him.

“Benny.” Benny’s eyes dart up, and with a tilted down head he gives Dean a wary look. Dean has a headache and he rubs at his eyes, “You got anything to eat, man?”

Benny puts down the rag on the chair, and nods, chin low and touching his chest. He steps towards Dean, and Dean watches him come closer until he’s looming over him, head down and eyes thoughtfully watching Dean.

Dean tries a half smile

“Is there something on my face?”

Benny’s palm cups Dean’s face then, and Dean swallows. Benny’s face comes close and Dean tilts his head up to keep eye contact. His beard touches Dean’s face first, bristly and sharp, and then his mouth closes over Dean’s, and he steals Dean’s breath. He kisses gently, like he’s trying to intimately hold every molecule on Dean’s lips, and he smells good, like sea and gasoline and just the slightest hint of copper.

“I thought I’d like to try that, before saying goodbye again,” Benny mumbles against his mouth. And then there’s a can landing in his lap and a spoon and Dean sees Benny gave him canned peaches, and a distinct withdrawal of Benny.

Benny leaves and comes back with a glass of water.

“You need to drink up, you lost a lot.” He takes the can and stabs it with a knife he brought, opening it up.

Dean internally groans. He hadn’t lost his shit like that since he was …well, much younger than he should have been.

“Now, mind tellin’ me how the hell you’re in these parts when you just gave me a speech about this being over, not a few hours ago?”

“I don’t know how I ended up here,” Dean says around a mouth full of peaches, “or why I was naked.” There’s a faint smile on Benny’s mouth, but Dean swallows his food and really looks at Benny.

He’s hunched, and his sidelong glances don’t quite reach Dean’s face. He looks pale, the lines of his face accentuated with the discoloration. 

“Benny, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“What was it exactly you called me for. Really.”

Benny’s eyes fall away and across the room, and Dean sees his cooler there. He closes his eyes and breathes.

“Have you - “

“Not yet. I’m tryin’ hard, Dean. One bag left, brother. I don’t…”

“How long has it been since you…”

Benny licks his lips. He looks at the door. Dean notices the locks, the closed window shades.

“A day.”

Dean nods, puts his can down.

“I think I know where to get an EMT uniform. I’ll snatch some, you’ll have a full cooler tomorrow night, swear it,”

“Dean, you don’t need - ”

“Benny,” Dean cuts him off easily, makes Benny meet his eyes. Benny half rolls his eyes and something tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“You and that whole friend thing man,” he says, fondness in his voice taking away any negative feelings.

Dean reaches for the knife Benny had used to cut the can open.

“But for now,” he flicks the sheet down and reveals the expanse of his leg, the top of his thigh covered by Benny’s draping shirt. He moves that, and positions the knife over it.

“Hold up, hold up.” Benny is lurching forward and grabbing his wrist, and Dean isn’t used to bruising strength coming from Benny who, despite all vocal claims, appeared only cute and cuddly whenever alone around Dean.

“Sorry,” he gentles his hold, but keeps the blade between them. “Can’t let you do this, Dean.”

“Benny, I’m gonna need your help, and I’m gonna need you focused, okay. Take what you need.”

“Dean,” Benny’s voice and resolve was cracking. His eyes slanted to Dean’s exposed thigh.

“Do you think you can control yourself?” Dean asks carefully.

Benny is quiet, Dean’s hand still in his fist, the knife unmoving. He sees Benny take a deep breath, look at Dean, and nod.

“Yeah,”

“Okay then.” Dean moves to jerk his hand out but Benny chased after it.

“Whoa, whoa.” He snaps his head at Benny, objections on the tip of his tongue, but Benny’s already producing a switchblade from his own pocket. He slips the knife out of Dean’s fingers like butter, and places it to the side of the bed.

 “Don’t want you getting an infection now,” Benny says smoothly. Dean watches his thick fingers wrap around his calf and tugs, straightening his leg out. He maneuvers onto the bed and Dean spreads his other leg to accommodate him. Benny’s shirt is covering his junk and Benny isn’t peeking, but Dean feels vague threats of arousal coming from the intimate contact.

Benny’s hand braces onto the top of Dean’s thigh, the other poised with the knife above his skin.

“You sure?” Benny asks and Dean keeps very still when he responds.

“Please.”

He sees Benny get the face, the one where he’s close to extracting his teeth, but he closes his mouth and eyes and gets a look of concentration. He opens his eyes and handles Dean’s thigh again gently, moving it around and kisses it with cold lips like Dean is a precious gift.

Then he places the knife well over an area and cuts. Dean hisses, but Benny’s got his leg pinned and still. His lips are on him, mouth, no feeling of anything but blunt teeth yet. Benny is sucking something bigger than a hicky, laving at the cut he made on Dean’s leg.

Dean holds his breath at the feeling. He brings his other leg closer to Benny, and Benny’s arm, the one previously holding the knife, wraps around Dean’s leg and pulls it closer. He’s got his legs around Benny’s head, and Benny is making a meal of him. In a misplaced sense of intimacy perhaps, Dean’s palms find their way to rest on Benny’s scalp.

I love you, he thinks. He’s not sure how many times he’s had this thought.

Benny’s blunt teeth are working his skin around the cut, but the blood is streaming and Dean feels like he could do this all night. He looks down and sees Benny’s head fervent between his thighs, sees his fingers digging into Dean’s leg.

Soon though, Dean feels lightheaded, dizzy. He says Benny’s name, once, twice, but Benny is still there, with intent to suck Dean like a straw.

And then-

Benny jerks up onto his knees. Dean looks at the spot he left behind, still bleeding, a large dark red spot of his leg.

“Your sheets…”

But Benny is getting off the bed and has a hand to his mouth. Then he’s getting a box from the wall-

A first aid kit.

If Dean wasn’t feeling woozy he might scoff.

But Benny is pressing gauze, disinfectant, bandages him up. He gives him butterfly bandages. He does this all carefully, treating Dean’s leg like a separate patient from Dean.

He kisses Dean’s thigh again.

He kisses Dean thank you when it’s all over, and Dean can taste his blood on Benny’s tongue.

* * *

 

Dean gets Benny two coolers worth of blood bags. It’s a quick operation; Dean can play bait pretty well.

They get back to Benny’s docked houseboat and Benny doesn’t give Dean a chance to relax before he’s on him again. He’s scraping his teeth up Dean’s neck and Dean is tugging his coat off and making some embarrassing hitches of breath in his arms.

Benny is slow and solid when he rocks into Dean, holding his left leg spread with one hand. He holds Dean’s face with the other, and Dean sucks on his thumb and moans in the back of his throat when Benny slides in just so. He loses himself pretty quickly in the rhythm of their hips, keens and pants and closes his eyes when Benny moves in for a kiss. He opens to his mouth and squeezes Benny’s biceps on either side of him, caging him in. He comes first and Benny follows inside him, and it feels like he’s won something, and it feels like he’s warm. 

Benny bows and kiss Dean’s hairline, reluctantly, and slowly moves out of Dean. Dean makes a noise of protest and reaches for Benny’s retreating form, and Benny chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest.  His arms close around Dean, and he turns them. Dean goes with it and lets Benny position him, until he’s lying half on top of Benny, legs curled over his, and Benny is on his back with his forehead touching Dean’s.

“What am I gonna do without you?” Benny says in a quiet breath that Dean barely hears. Benny’s hand is cradling Dean’s head, and his fingers are stroking down his nape. Dean closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice feeling hoarse.

“It’s your brother, right?” Dean’s face burns at the confrontation, and his stomach clenches and his hand twitches where it’s limp and over Benny’s chest. Benny’s other hand reaches over to hold it.   “It’s alright, you don’t have to say anything,” Dean opens his eyes to look at Benny’s centimeters from his. Benny could see anything from there, Dean thought. Could he see how Dean felt like he was being unraveled? Like he felt himself becoming just skin and bones and whoever had a claim on him…

“I don’t care about your brother, Dean. I care about you.” He tries to make the words come out, the B of a but is almost formed in protest, Benny hushes him softly. “You do what you gotta do, Dean. I get that.” His voice is so soft, and Dean wants to kiss him again, so he does. Benny’s mouth is receptive, welcoming, and they stay when Dean leaves them. Benny sighs.

“This place is always going to be available to you, whether you want it or not. Got it? Look at me Dean.” His voice is firmer than it usually is with Dean. His eyes snap open and Benny’s eyes are focused, blue and crisp into Dean, “No matter what happens, you still got me. No matter what you may think, or what your brother says, I’m. Here. Now you’ve gotta promise me when you go back, you’re not just gonna try to destroy yourself.  It’s not good for you, kid.”

“Since when am I kid now?” Dean asks wryly, tries to avoid the uncomfortable claustrophobic feeling he’s getting by looking down. Benny huffs a breath. His arm curls around Dean’s head, hand traveling over his neck and fingers finding their way under Dean’s chin.

“Promise me you won’t pull another stunt like the other day. Sam doesn’t have to know if you don’t want to tell him,” Dean rolls his eyes and he tries to ignore the cracks in his voice when it comes out.

“How am I even gonna explain how I got here?” Everything is threatening to break inside of him, whatever resolve he had. His lips are trembling, the room is too quiet.

“Dean…”

“Okay,” he nods unsteadily, “okay,” he drags air in and swallows it down.

Benny’s thumb is on his face, wiping over his wet cheeks.

He bends Dean’s head toward his neck, and Dean breathes in and out, shaky breaths against Benny’s chest. Benny’s chin rests on Dean’s head, and his other hand is scratching down his naked back now. Benny hushes him again when he stupidly tries to get up thinking maybe this is too much, he’s giving away too much that isn’t his to give. He likes it too much, and surely that means danger.

Eventually Dean calms down enough to notice Benny has been tracing letters onto his skin. His breaths steady as he tries to concentrate.

He’s spelling a name onto his skin.

Dean.


End file.
